


Preteentaire

by espetrell



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 13 year old grantaire is a douche, Gen, Homophobic Language, Slurs, petitaire au, preteen!taire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espetrell/pseuds/espetrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has been cursed to revert to his 13 year old self for a week. Les Amis are forced to deal with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preteentaire

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what's going on with this ficlet anymore. I left it a bit open-ended in the middle, so if I or anyone who can write better than me wants to add more content to it they can. I hope you like it!
> 
> I feel like anyone who reads this should view the wonderful Sclez's wonderful drawing of 13 year old R to see what I had in mind visually (http://sclez.tumblr.com/post/76002365655/little-angsty-13-year-old-r-complete-with-tripp), which also inspired the Tripp pants mention.

"No fucking way," Courfeyrac said, arms crossed, staring down at the child slouching in the chair where Enjolras usually sat. Enjolras was going to be late, so they just let him. Not that they could have influenced him, anyway. He was stubborn.

"Yes fucking way," Musichetta responded. "I know, I found him."

"Should we be using such strong language around him? He's, like, 12." asked Joly. The child leveled him a glare.

"I am THIRTEEN, douchebag," Grantaire snapped, "I am a TEENAGER."

Feuilly buried his face in his hands. "Good god. Why can't that asshole have made him 3 instead of 13? I don't know how much longer I can take this."

None of the group knew exactly who the asshole Feuilly had mentioned was, but they knew that apparently Grantaire had angered him enough that he had cast a spell on him turning him 13. Musichetta had found him sulking outside their apartment with a note explaining that he would be back to normal in a week, and hopefully this would teach him not to mess with warlocks in the future. Discussion of what Grantaire could have done to deserve this or why the hell warlocks exist were put on hold in favor of figuring out what to do with the current version of him in their care.

"At least he could have made him younger without making him from the early 2000s," Bahorel groaned.

"What's wrong with that?" Grantaire asked with a scowl.

Jehan merely pointed at him and asked, "Tripp pants?"

Grantaire merely looked Jehan up and down and snapped back, "You're one to talk."

"He's got a point," Bossuet snickered, immediately ducking when Jehan took off one of his Crocs and threw it at his head in retaliation.

It could have descended into a brawl if Enjolras had not come through the door. Everyone looked to him immediately, waiting to see his reaction.

"It's as bad as you said, Combeferre," Enjolras eventually said weakly. The room erupted into laughter, except for Grantaire, who only scowled more. He turned to Musichetta.

"Is that fairy seriously the head of your club you were telling me about?"

The laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. Enjolras' face went ghost white. He had still been standing in the doorway, and he closed the door behind him, leaving the room without another word.

The others glanced at each other in horror, then looked at Grantaire. The smug smile that he made no effort to hide told them that he knew exactly what he had said.

"What?" He taunted them, "He is, isn't he?"

"You're right, you're not a kid anymore," Musichetta started, because the question had been addressed to her, "So you absolutely know better than to use homophobic slurs."

"Yeah?" Grantaire laughed, "Gimme one good reason."

"Alright, punk," Courfeyrac said with a barely contained snarl, leaning forward. "I wasn't going to be a douchebag, but you obviously have cornered the market on douchebaggery, so you leave me no choice. Here's your reason. The you we know, the one in his 20s, is head over heels in love with Enjolras, and if he starts hating you, you'll never forgive yourself in a week, once you return to your senses."

"Courfeyrac!" Combeferre hissed, but Courfeyrac's words had already had their effect. Grantaire's smile was gone and he was glancing about in a desperate search for sympathy. When he found none, he squeaked, "I'm not gay!"

"No, you're not," Jehan said, "You're bisexual. I know because you told me so the morning after."

"Jehan!" Combeferre scolded again, louder and angrier than before.

"That was a bit too far, I think," Feuilly told Jehan with a disapproving frown, watching Grantaire turn ever deeper shades of red.

"I'll shut up now," Grantaire said quietly, sinking down into his chair.

"So are you going to apologize to Enjolras?" Joly asked.

"No."

Apologies would come later, the next week, after Grantaire had woken up on Joly and Bossuet's couch as himself. A party had been organized to celebrate, and Grantaire finally got to tell all of them how he'd been cursed.

"So after we trade insults for a bit - keep in mind this is all over me just wearing the jersey of his least favorite team in the vicinity of a sports bar, so, not really a shooting offense - then I snap and ask him, 'Why do you care so much about the shirt I wanna wear? What are you, 12?' That was apparently a sore spot, and so it degraded from there. Last thing I remember is him pulling what I guess was a wand out of nowhere and yelling, 'This is what you get for insulting High Warlock Ziphardel!'"

Grantaire paused to take a swig of beer from the can in his hand. He sighed.

"What a douche."

"Last thing you remember until when?" Enjolras asked. The others stared at him in surprise; up until that moment, he hadn't said almost anything. Grantaire grimaced.

"Until I woke up as a 13 year old again. It was unreal, like, looking back, I remember saying things but I can't believe I said them." His meaning was clear, even before his eyes darted over to Enjolras and he said, "I'm really very sorry, Enjolras. I can't apologize enough."

"It's fine," Enjolras said, a bit too quickly.

"No, it's not," Grantaire retorted, "And I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You don't have to. No, really," Enjolras said in response to Grantaire's raised eyebrows. "It wasn't really you, anyways."

"Yeah?" Grantaire said with more than a hint of disbelief in his tone.

"It gave me a bit more appreciation for the current Grantaire, to be honest. I'm glad you're back."

"I'd drink to that!" Courfeyrac called, holding up his own beer. Everyone else followed suit.

"To me not being a raging douchecanoe!" Grantaire toasted with a self-deprecating laugh. The others laughed along more genuinely, even Enjolras, and clinked their beers or glasses of water together.

"To Grantaire's return!"


End file.
